Burning all the Suns down
by Possibility Girl
Summary: With the fire they burned the memories, childhood, home, and now she was the only proof that they had something before. (EdWin; One-short/ficlet)


_**A/N**__: While working on my Italian exam and new chapter for the other fanfic, I drabbled up this fanfic-short story out of nowhere. Thank to my friend Anja [that is not me] for editing this one, even though she is not even FMA fan!_

_**Disclaimer**__: I still don't own FMA and I don't make any profit or this [or any other writing for that matter :(]_

It wasn't supposed to be that way. It wasn't, but the time when they were the ones knitting their own faith was long past gone. Now they were stuck in the sticky net of fortune, like flies, but they did not plan on waiting for a spider to swallow them. They came all the way up here. They won't return. They won't turn back. With the fire they burned the memories, childhood, home, and now she was the only proof that they had something before.

And she… She was burning for herself, but it was obvious she would never burn down. She did not need the sun; she, herself, _was_ the sun. She produced her own energy, her own source of light, her own strength. Standing tall, on her own two legs. He knew that she was, in fact, stronger than they were. She was keeping herself on the move, but she also dragged him along. That was, perhaps, why he was afraid of his feelings for her – just for once were Daedalus and Icarus flying too close to the sun, they could not do it for the second time. And she was the sun, stronger than any he had ever seen. He could not make himself get too close to her, even though she was there. She was the one that was always there.

She had carried him. She had carried his heavy body on her scratched, rugged hands. The blood was dripping to the grass, dripping over her feet, soaking her dress and getting mixed with her sweat and his tears. Thick, greasy blood was glued to her words "Hold on, you must make it!". She carried him, she barely could, but she knew what she was doing. She knew she was carrying his and her life that night, so she never dared to stop. Years later, she is still carrying him, his blood is not dripping anymore, but he still needs the words "Hold on, you must make it!" so he **could** actually make it. He stands on his own two imagined legs, but in fact, he stands on her legs. She is the one holding him.

He doesn't really know much about it - perhaps he would not really burn down and turn into flames in the way everything he had ever known had turned. Perhaps he should try, but what _does_ he actually know!? They are just children, thrown into the ring of adult emotions where they have to play with the sharp objects and dangerous people. They can only toss the balls at each other, because what else do they know? And so they play, they throw the balls around, throw the words, throw the remarks, throw the looks. It's all like the play, but it's all like the real thing.

She carried him and he is not sure what he should tell her. Words of thanks just don't seem right. And therefore, he chooses the silence.

And she… She would just, here and there, sit by the window and, while waiting for the familiar shadows to appear on the horizon and approach her (even though it's never them, as they show up only when she isn't wait), she would write down a couple of words. She burns them to flame, symbolically uniting them with all the other memories they had.

"_There, don't you forget me._

_Don't forget me on your long journey, during your adventures, when you get surrounded by the people and faces much funnier than my own. Don't forget me, I am waiting for you. I am here, whenever you need a home, whenever you need a friend. Don't forget me when you grow tall, when you reach your dreams, when the crowd cheers your name – because I know it will happen. I believe in you. I always did. When you were dying and bleeding on my hands, I did. I've never stopped. Don't forget me when you refuse to drink your milk at dinner, don't forget me when the nerves in your body ache, don't forget me even as I burn this letter down. You __taught_ _me how the burned ones don't get forgotten. They are just a path you pass along the way on the big journey of yours._

_And I am ready for the next stop."_


End file.
